My hands would never be clean again ( inspired from Lady Macbeth)

I can’t rub it off.

The smell,

The audacious  smell.

And the blood.

The blood of my guilt,

my cravings,my miseries.

I’m roaming about in the terrace ,

The silks of royalty at my feet,

But not a single gem,

Can quench my thirst

Of relief ,

Of joy.

Why can’t  I rub it off?

What is wrong with me?

Why’s the smell of my sins

Sticking to my hands

Like venom to a snake?

In vain do I try to

Wash then off

And dim them with

All the perfumes  of royalty.

Royalty, did I say?

Not royalty ,no.

They are the perfumes of my greed .

My sins, my cravings. 

How will they fade the scent of guilt? How will they stop me from clutching on to the majestic silver  weapon,

And slashing it against my venomous skin?

It can’t , it can’t .

It won’t , it won’t.